


les bras de mer (qui s'allongent puis renoncent à mordre dans la terre)

by kittenmichael



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt, Insomnia, M/M, Near Death, even ft the balloon squad save him, isak nearly drowns, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/pseuds/kittenmichael
Summary: Perhaps Isak just needs to clear his head, but even here, sheltered by cliffs and waves, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Warnings for the oncoming flood, Bible verses predicting the end of the world. God, Isak is so tired of it. Sometimes he wishes the flood would just come, drag him in and let him rest at last.or, isak goes for a walk to clear his head, nearly drowns, and even and his lifeguard squad come to his rescue





	les bras de mer (qui s'allongent puis renoncent à mordre dans la terre)

**Author's Note:**

> this is dramatic and 100% unnecessary but i deserve it ok
> 
> (also: where i live, a lot of lifeguards are v young. they are known for their awesome parties only lifeguards are allowed to attend)

Isak’s head is pounding. The wind is tugging at his sweater, blowing his hair in his eyes. He can taste sand in his mouth, can feel it grinding when he grits his teeth.

This was meant to be a peaceful walk. Something to help clear his head and lighten his heavy heart. The brute force of nature, so visible here where sea meets land in a clamorous clash of salt water and rocks, is meant to tire him out. All Isak wants to do is sleep.

There are dark circles underneath his eyes, standing out like bruises. His skin is pale, and his eyes have long lost their sparkle. It’s the result of a seemingly endless streak of near sleepless nights. Nights spent staring at the ceiling or the glaring red numbers of his alarm clock.

Perhaps Isak just needs to clear his head, but even here, sheltered by cliffs and waves, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Warnings for the oncoming flood, Bible verses predicting the end of the world. God, Isak is so tired of it. Sometimes he wishes the flood would just come, drag him in and let him rest at last.

Despite the ache in his legs, Isak keeps walking. He ignores signs he doesn’t know the meaning of, well aware that this isn’t an area meant for casual swimming. The sea is too rough here. Like the wind that’s biting his skin. There are tears streaming down his cheeks, an outgrowth of the elements at play on the shore. Isak’s too far away in his head to notice.

He thinks about his mother, defenceless and terrifying all at once, about his absent father, and the desire clawing at his heart. His feet get heavier with every step he takes, his thoughts weighing down on him like the clouds overhead.

He thinks about talking to someone, like the school nurse suggested. Opening up to Jonas, who already knows half of what’s going on. Maybe he could crash at his for a couple of nights, see if he finds sleep there.

It’s getting colder, Isak notices, and a little darker too. The sun is taking refuge behind the clouds. Perhaps it’s time to give into his tired limbs and head back. Before he can make up his mind, a single wave crashes over his feet, drenching his socks and sneakers. The water is freezing, and an involuntary shiver runs down his spine. It’s not until he looks up that he discovers just how close the sea has gotten.

His heart drops when he sees it. Only he would go for a stroll at a fucking beach caged by cliffs. If the water shuts him in, which it’s doing right now, there’s nowhere he can go.

So he runs. The pain in his joints becomes irrelevant, washed away by adrenaline. His breaths scrape against his throat, his tongue dry in his mouth. His feet sink away in the sand, exhausting him until he’s forced to lean against the cliffs to keep from falling over. The only route to the top of the cliffs is an hour’s walk away.

Isak’s never going to make it. He knows he isn’t. The realisation hits him like a tidal wave, and sobs crawl up his throat. He’s about to sink down to his knees, curl up and weep about his faith, when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

More Bible verses, probably, but that’s not why he cares. He doubts any God, be it his mum’s or Sana’s, could save him now.

His fingers tremble when he unlocks his phone, and he struggles to dial the right number. He stares at the sea, at the mass of water threatening to engulf him, pressing the phone against his ear. It’s hard to hear the voice above the crashing of waves, but Isak manages to make out the words.

“ _911, what’s your emergency?”_

He hopes they can hear him, too.

*

There’s whipped cream on Even’s face. It’s a laid back day today, too cold for swimmers and too calm for storms. The life guards are just sitting around a bit, which is why they sent Mikael on his way during lunch break to go fetch them some cake. The delicious shortbread puff pastry, pudding, and strawberries were now long gone, safe for the cream smeared across Even’s cheek, and there’s a party awaiting him. Only fifteen minutes left on the clock before they get to call it a day.

“D’you reckon I should start cleaning up this mess?” Yousef asks, gesturing vaguely at the shreds of cardboard, improvised paper plates, which are scattered around the cabin.

Even shrugs, and Elias just groans, consequence of the three pieces he scourged on before Mutasim snatched the fourth piece away. He’s about to get up and offer to help anyway, when Mikael bursts into the room.

“Fuck, guys. Someone got closed in by the tide. We need to go.” He’s already grabbing the keys of their boat, rambling off the estimated location of the victim and a plan on how to free him.

The news shakes off any cake-induced drowsiness. Everyone goes straight to business. Even can feel his heart beating in his chest. He manages to stay calm these days, a strong feat given his past. Every alert used to freak him out, haunted by the fear of messing up and risking someone’s life. Now he just listens to Yousef come up with a game plan and tries to figure out where he can be most useful.

The ocean is mild today. Their boat rides the waves without any problems, as they hurry towards the location Mikael gave them. Even clutches the iron railing, combing the shoreline for a trace of the wanderer.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Yousef says. “There’s no way we can get close enough to the shore to get him on board straight away. We’ll have to throw in a buoy first and drag him in. Even, you help him out of the water. I’ll take care of steering the boat back towards the base while Elias searches for injuries.”

Even grumbles in response, too focused on locating the victim to offer a proper response. He’s not one for small talk on a rescue mission. His friends, though, use it as a coping mechanism.

“Did Mikael mention a name?” Elias asks, readying the buoy. “An age? Anything?”

“Isak Valtersen.” Yousef whispers. It’s hard to make out over the noisy waves crashing against the side of the boat.

“Isn’t he with Jonas? Jonas Vasquez?” Yousef nods in lieu of replying, and Even doesn’t understand what this fuss is about. He’s never heard of an Isak before. “He’s like, he’s…”

“Sana’s age, yes.”

 _Oh,_ Even thinks. A seventeen year old. A hair’s breadth away from drowning.

Before he can ponder the thought any longer, Elias calls out: “There! There!” Looking in the direction of Elias’ pointed finger, he discovers what looks like the outline of a teenage boy.

Yousef reacts straight away, steering their speedboat in that direction. The closer they get, the faster Even’s heart beats. His stomach turns upside down and back again. He can see Isak clearly now, can even make out his facial expression when he peers through the binoculars.

Isak is pressed against the sharp rocks. His blond hair sticks to his face. The water reaches up to his neck, but every two seconds a wave crashes in his face. The force of it smacks him against the cliffs. Even can tell by the look on his face that the boy is pain. His eyes, circled by ugly blue bruises, are half shut, and his face is scrunched up. Isak looks terrified.

The next moments seem to last ages. Time crawls as they race to the teenager. Yousef works his magic, trying to get them as close to Isak with getting slammed against the dangerous rocks themselves.

“Isak,” Elias calls through the megaphone when they’re close enough. “Isak Valtersen.”

The calling of his name gets Isak’s attention. He forces his eyes open, the piercing blue startling Even. He doesn’t look the slightest bit assured by their presence. He merely stares at the waves, flinching even before they reach him.

“Isak, can you hear me?” Elias insists. “Isak?” After Isak nods, the lifeguard continues. “My name is Elias. I’m a lifeguard. We’re going to throw a buoy, okay? Grab it and hold on real tight. Can you do that for me? We’ll pull you in. Get you safe.”

Isak remains unresponsive. He only has eyes for the tide rising and pulling him in.

“Isak! Isak, can you do that? Isak Valtersen!”

He nods, then. Even passes the information off to Elias, who releases the buoy. The yellow device floats towards Isak, as much a puppet in the ocean’s clutch as Isak, as their boat. Isak can’t stop nodding now. When the buoy reaches him, he hesitates for a second. He stares at it, wide-eyed and tight-lipped. His head is still bouncing up and down.

Elias is about to resume his shouting, to urge Isak on, when Isak jumps for the buoy. The movement is sudden. It reminds Even of a trapped animal, kicking and scratching in its attempts to escape. The way Isak grabs the buoy, the way he clutches it with all his might, is an instinct. Even when the tide throws him against the rocks, he doesn’t let go. He tightens his grip.

Even and Elias start pulling him in. Even’s arms ache as they slave away, but his mind is elsewhere. Despite the strong waves drawing Isak in, despite the rocks, who seem unwilling the let go of their victim, they manage to get him close enough to the boat to pull him in.

Even braces himself for the cold water and possible struggling on Isak’s side. It’s rarely easy to get someone aboard. One arm goes for Isak’s legs, the other wraps around his waist. Isak doesn’t protest. He only holds on tighter, like Even and his touch are part of the ocean, its cruel waves and the accessory cliffs.

Things go smoothly, and before Even can think twice Isak is lying on the floor of the boat. The boy is shivering violently, coughing and coughing. Water runs down his chin while he gasps for air. His arms are still wrapped around the buoy.

“Isak? You’re safe now,” Elias says. “You can let go of the buoy.”

Even is certain Isak can hear and understand them, but Isak doesn’t budge. If anything, he holds on tighter. Elias and Even share a look. When Even nods, Elias starts prying the buoy from Isak’s blue fingers. Even uses his strength to keep Isak down, so he won’t hurt Elias in a desperate attempt to hold on to his lifesaver. Once Isak realises the fight is futile, he switches tactics. He lets go of the buoy. Elias nearly topples over in surprise. Before either of them can react, Isak grabs Even. His thin arms circle Even’s waste, and his face gets buried into Even’s chest.

Even can feel his muscles twitch, beyond exhausted but running on left-over adrenaline. If Even wanted, he could throw Isak off, free himself from his grip. Elias looks at the two of them, an unspoken question between them, but Even shakes his head.

It’s okay. Isak is just a kid. His body looks so small compared to Even’s, and the sight and the feeling of having this terrified boy in his arms tugs at Even’s heart strings.

“It’s okay, Isak,” Even whispers. “We’ve got you now. My friend is going to check for injuries, alright?”

Even expects Isak to remain unresponsive, but Isak surprises him by nodding. The movement is barely there, but Even can hear Isak’s cheek scrape against his uniform.

Even focuses on Isak while Elias goes about examining him. For the most part, Isak stays passive. He only shuts his eyes that tad bit tighter and clenches his hands where they’re fisting the fabric of Even’s bright red shirt. It’s the adrenaline, Even suspects, the best painkiller in the world.

Even is so focused on Isak that he barely notices them reaching their base. Flashing blue lights illuminate the cold evening air, and Elias informs Isak that they’re taking him to the hospital now. Those words seem to shake Isak awake. His eyes shot open. He tries to get up, but his body is beyond exhausted. Even supports him before he can crash to the ground.

“You can’t let them call my parents,” Isak croaks. His voice is ruined by the copious amounts of seawater he swallowed and coughed back up. “Please.”

Even’s heart breaks. Isak is looking at him at last, his eyes wide open and his face marred by fear and fatigue. Even wants to give him everything he wishes for, anything to put this boy at ease, but giving in now would mean lying. Yousef said Isak is seventeen. The paramedics are obligated by law to ring his parents.

“I’m sorry,” Elias says, when he sees Even can’t. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

Isak starts crying. He cries so violently he seems to choke on his sobs. They shake his whole body, using up what little energy it had left. Elias and Even share a look, and then Even is pressing Isak against his chest. He rocks them, swaying back and forth, whispering nonsense, and holding him tight.

When it’s time to leave the boat, Isak is still crying. Even doesn’t want to let him go, and Isak doesn’t want him to, either. He gets all but hysteric when the paramedics try to take him.

“It’s okay,” Even mediates. “I’ll ride with him to the hospital.” He’s not sure Isak hears him.

It’s unusual for either of them to enter an ambulance. Most of the time, there are family members or friends around who insist on accompanying the victim. Isak is alone, though. Alone and terrified. Even isn’t taking any chances.

Riding the ambulance turns out to be quite the hassle. Isak still refuses to let him go. Even has to pry his fingers off, so he can hold his hand while the paramedics check his vitals. The drive to the hospital seems awfully long. Isak stops crying at last, and the lack adrenaline makes room for exhaustion. Now that there’s no imminent danger, Isak’s body starts to notice the damage it has suffered. Isak whines in pain every time there’s a bump in the road. There are no signs of broken bones, but bruises litter his skin.

By the time they reach the hospital, Even’s heart is in his throat. He kind of wants to cry, and he would, if it weren’t for Isak, who is still clutching Even’s hand. A doctor gives him painkillers, and Even squeezes Isak’s hand when he sees him shudder at the sight of the needle. As soon as the liquid disappears in Isak’s veins, his grip on Even’s hand weakens. When Even searches his gaze, he sees Isak’s eyes slowly closing. Isak doesn’t let go though. He still holds on to Even, even when he has finally simmered down.

Isak is asleep. His parents have been called. Even should leave, should head to the party awaiting him, but he doesn’t. It’s a Friday night, and Even falls asleep in a plastic hospital chair.

**Author's Note:**

> pls let me know in the comments if u liked this/like unnecessary drama like me
> 
> (if u speak french pls hmu)


End file.
